AMERICAN AGRICULTUR/ST. 
139 
Laws. I will read you a little law, however, 
which I have just seen in a book I found 
here—(the speaker picked up a law book and 
read as follows:)—“ Every man has aright 
to defend himself from personal violence.” 
Now I don’t know whether that is law or not, 
but I find it in alaw book, [a veteran member 
of the bar who was sitting near the speaker, 
remarked to him that it was good law.] 
Well, gentlemen, here is an old man, who 
looks as if he might know something, and he 
says ’tis good law. Now if you will turn to 
Barbour something, page 399, you’ll find 
that the same doctrine is applied to cattle — 
(great laughter.) Therefore I take it I had 
a right to defend my cows against Dodder’s 
10 foot switch. Why, gentlemen nearly all 
my wealth is invested in them three cows, 
and you can’t wonder that I became a little 
excited when 1 saw Dodder switching them 
with this 10 foot pole. I am a poor man, and 
have a large family, consisting of a wife and 
six children, which I reckon is doing very 
well for so small a man as 1 am, and I could 
not afford to let Dodder kill my cows ! 
Now, gentlemen, I don’t believe you’ll 
convict me, after what I have said. But if 
you do, and this Court fines me $250,1 shall 
“ repudiate ” because I “ can’t pay.” And if 
I’m jugged for six months, why these Dodders 
will have it all their own way up here. But 
notwithstanding all this I am willing to risk 
myself in your hands, and if you think I ought 
to have stood by and not done anything, 
when I saw Dodder hammering my cows, 
why then I am “ gone in,” toll-gate and all. 
It is true, I am a poor man, but not a mean 
one. The name of Allington can be traced 
to the May Flower, when she landed the 
pilgrims on Plymouth Rock; among the pas¬ 
sengers was a widow, Mary Allington, with 
four fatherless children, and I am descended 
from that Puritan stock ; and from that day 
to this, there has never lived an Allington 
who hadn’t Yankee spirit enough to stone a 
Dodder for poling his Cows. I'm done. 
Roars of laughter, during which the de¬ 
fendant took his seat. After a few words 
from his Honor the Jury retired, and in a 
few moments returned with a verdict of Not 
Guilty. 
Old Dodder and Dodder No. 2, were at 
that instant seen plunging down the stairs 
leading to the court-yard with unbounded 
powers of locomotion ; when the yard was 
gained they fairly ran, and it is supposed 
never stopped until the deep woods of Mini¬ 
sink hid them from the gaze of men. 
Allington heard the verdict with the sang 
froid of a philosopher. No emotion, other 
than the turning his quid of tobacco in his 
mouth^andan extra squirt of juice was ob¬ 
servable. 
It may be as well to remark, that the Dis¬ 
trict Attorney refused to be pitted against 
his eloquent opponent, and let the cause go 
by default, as he said not a word in reply to 
the speech of his opponent. The District 
Attorney was in a tight place, and took the 
wisest course to get out. It is not often he 
meets with such formidable prisoners. 
We dined out the other day, says a cotem- 
porary, with a citizen who enjoys a good 
joke. Among others, he related one of a 
Yankee and a Dutchman, who, when discuss¬ 
ing politics, wound up on the relative merits 
of Seward and Bouck, both ex-Governors of 
the Empire State. Says Yankee, “Bouck 
has not so long a head as Seward.” “ Veil,” 
says Dutchy, in a huff, “ Py zounds, Seward’s 
head is not half so thick gs Bouck’s.” 
Exercise. —A young lady who was recom¬ 
mended to take exercise for the benefit of 
her health, said she would jump at an offer 
and run her own risk. 
MORN - NOON - NIGHT. 
Morn calleth fondly to a fair boy straying 
’Mid golden meadows, rich with clover dew; 
She calls; but he still thinks of naught save playing, 
And so she smiles and waves him an adieu! 
While he, still merry with his flowery store, 
Deems not that morn—sweet morn—returns no 
more. 
Noon cometh—but the boy to manhood growing, 
Heeds not the time. He sees but one sweet 
form— 
One young, fair face from bower of jasmine glow¬ 
ing, 
And all his loving heart with bliss is warm. 
So Noon, unnoticed, seeks the western shore, 
And man forgets that noon returns no more. 
Night tappeth gently at a casement gleaming 
With the thin firelight flickering faint and low ; 
By which a gray-haired man is sadly dreaming 
Of pleasures gone as all life's pleasures go. 
Night calls him to her, and he leaves his door, 
Silent and dark—and he returns no more. 
HINTS TO POETS. 
We are overwhelmed with poetry. Either 
the drouth has not touched the Castalian 
fount, or the autumn rains have swollen it. 
Much of the poetry that comes into our 
hands is written upon such delicate paper, 
and with such elegant penmanship, and is 
accompanied with such modest notes from 
virgin authors, that we are at our wits’ end 
to know what to do with it. How can we 
decline publishing what is prepared with so 
much pains, and is proffered with so much 
delicate consideration 1 In order to recover 
our judgment sufficiently to decide upon the 
queries of elegant rhyme-paper before us, 
we beg that the Muses will be more sparing 
of their favors for at least two months to 
come. And for the guidance of those who 
meditate such favors for us in the future, we 
beg leave to submit the following hints : 1. 
Do not take a psalm tune and make a jingle 
of words match it. Greenville and Cor¬ 
onation are capital tunes; but they do not 
always inspire good poetry. 2. Do not take 
a rhyming dictionary and select a row of 
words, and then prefix syllables to make out 
the requisite number of feet. Poetry con¬ 
structed upon that principle usually requires 
to be read backwards. 3. Do not take a foot 
rule and measure off inflated prose into blank 
verse. This is apt to confuse the reader 
as to the proper use of capitals and the 
pauses of the sentence. 4. Do not exhaust 
the adjectives and interjections of the Eng¬ 
lish language upon rhymes against Senator 
Douglas and the surrender of Burns. Turn 
your rhymes into votes. 5. Never send us 
anything “ upon the recommendation of 
judicious friends who desire to see it in 
print.” 6. After composing, lay aside your 
piece until the intoxication of the first in¬ 
spiration has subsided. Keep it a month, and 
then read it over. 7. Do r.ot be mortified 
that your piece is not published ; but take it 
for granted that you would be more mortified 
if it was. [Independent. 
MfgkoMERS. —Everybody has heard of the 
gentleman who described his country seat as 
having a “ lemonade” in front a “ porto-ri- 
co ” to each wing, a “ pizarro ” in the rear, 
with an “ anecdote ” by which the water was 
conveyed into a “ resurrection ” in the 
“ erie.” If we had ever heard of that gen¬ 
tleman’s having taken up his residence south 
of Mason and Dixon’s line, we should have 
no doubt that he was identical with the one 
who, as a Lousiana correspondent narrates, 
has thus announced, some contemplated 
architectural improvements : 
“ I contend,” said he, “ among other ‘ pusi- 
lanimous ’ things, to put a ‘ disclosure ’ 
around that field, plant a‘harbor’ in the middle, 
and cut a ‘revenue’ up to the door. And then 
when I have built a ‘perdition’ to my house, 1 
shall be able to receive my friends in a ‘hos¬ 
tile’ manner.” 
The Hombre and the Showman. — A ludi¬ 
crous scene occurred a short time since on 
one of our most frequented wharves, of 
which, perhaps, you may nothave heard. It 
seems some hirsute hunter had captured a 
huge grizzly bear up among the mountains 
somewhere, and, intent upon “realizing” 
something out of him, had duly raged him, 
brought him to the city and placed him on 
exhibition in a room opening, we will say, 
upon Pacific wharf. Over the door he posted 
in conspicuous letters, the “legend” (as 
Plimnix would have it,) “Large Bear—the 
largest ever caught—Admission 50 cents.” 
An unsophisticated, rawboned, long-legged, 
lank, Pike County man, fresh from the mines 
(excessively verdant—and matter of fact— 
and independent, withal,) in shuffling down 
the street, read the sign and thought he’d 
like to look at the “ critter.” So he paid the 
admission fee, and, after satisfying his curi¬ 
osity, went on his way. The day after, one 
of our German fellow citizens opened the 
very next room to that where bruin was on 
exhibition, and posted over his door a sign on 
which was printed in huge capitals, “ Lager 
Bier.” Our Pike County friend sauntered 
long-leggedly down the street soon afterward, 
and wasjthunderstruck when lie read the new 
sign. “Larger Bear!’ said he, “Larger 
Bear!—why, dog-dern that other feller’s 
eyes—he said his'n was the largest bear ever 
ketched—I’ve been swindled'." and as wrath¬ 
ful as Achilles, he made one rush for bruin’s 
exhibition room, swept in like an ungainly 
thunderbolt, regardless of admission fee, and, 
without one word, pummelled our worthy 
friend, the hunter, almost to death, and utter¬ 
ly cleaned him out.” [California Mag. 
What Book! —“My Lord, I appear before 
you in the character of an advocate from the 
City of London. My lord, the City of Lon¬ 
don herself appears before you as a suppliant 
for justice. My lord, it is written in the 
Book of Nature—” “What Book!” said 
Lord Ellenborough. “ The Book of Nature.” 
“ Name the page,” says Ellenborough, hold¬ 
ing his pen uplifted, as if to note the folio 
down. 
Switching Off. —“Boys,” said a village 
pedagogue, “ what is the meaning of all that 
noise in the school V' 
“ It is Bill Sikes, sir, who is all the time 
imitating a locomotive.” 
“ Come up here, William ; if you have 
turned into a locomotive, it is high time you 
were switched off.” 
Backbiter. —“ What is the meaning of a 
backbiter V ’ said a reverend gentleman dur- 
ing an examination at a parochial school. 
This was a puzzle. It went down the class 
till it came to a simple little urchin, who said, 
“ Pr’aps it be a flea.” 
A Suicidal Supper. —A man dying of apo¬ 
plexy, in Michigan, the jury of inquest re¬ 
turned the following true and sensible ver¬ 
dict : “ Died from a visitation of one beef 
steak, eight cold potatoes, and a fried pie.” 
An advocate having lately gained a suit for 
a poor young lady, she remarked, “ I have 
not anything to pay you with but my 
heart.” “ Hand it. over to the clerk, if you 
please. I wish no fee for myself,” he re¬ 
plied. 
Paradox. —An American sailor, although 
the first to give a blow, is the last to strike ! 
